


Popularity = $$$$

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bullets Era, But not explicit, Comic-Con, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Mentions of Sex, alternate universe - street performers, mention of alcohol use, they flirt in a coffee shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Street artists!AU</p><p>Gerard does caricatures on the street and Ray plays guitar less than a yard away from him. They hate each other. Both are too stubborn to move.</p><p>Green Day brings them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Popularity = $$$$

_Lovely it would be if I was the only artist on this street_ , thought Gerard as he pressed a button on the side of his phone, boosting the volume of his music. He nodded to the beat without taking his eyes off his artwork. _Nobody else even has good taste anymore._ He glanced over and glared at the person of maybe his age barely two yards away. _Especially not that guy._ The boy played guitar, wore glasses, and had very curly brown hair. _All that dude plays is fucking weird metal from the '80s._

Dude was a monster on guitar, Gerard knew, but the guy's covers didn't get him in the right frame of mind for creating. The only kind of which that was was all the music saved on his phone, and the guitarist never played any genre anywhere close.

Gerard sighed and looked away from the boy, turning his attention back to the drawing he was working on. He drew caricatures on the city streets of tourists for the money his job at the comic shop wasn't pulling in. He was even still looking for another job because his college tuition was seeming to cost more and more by the second and he was positive the stores (and his roommates) were trying to starve him. But that just meant these were his 'starving student' days, he guessed.

Art was his major in college and he and dreamt of becoming a comic book illustrator and/or author when he graduated. He had even already picked out his pen name. Drawing was his passion and he couldn't imagine doing anything else with his life (unless it involved classic punk music). The tips from drawing on the street was the only way he was getting by, and that curly-haired guy was stealing all his clientele.

He unconsciously started singing along to the Misfits song that had started playing as he finished up the drawing of the couple in front of him. Shading here, definition there, color. He could feel the glare of the guitarist next to him, but Gerard didn't care. This was the only way he could focus on his song and, therefore, his drawing.

Through the ear he left earphone-less, he could hear the guy play and sing louder. Gerard frowned and picked up the finished drawing and blew off the pencil dust in a pause from the vocals. He sang louder at the guy as he handed the couple the drawing. They thanked and tipped him, then left smiling.

Gerard was almost deterred. Seeing people happy with his work always lightened his mood.

But this little bitch over here was ruining not only his creative mood, but his chance for tips. The crowd gathering around him was aggravating (and astounding for any street performer).

Gerard packed up his things, belting the song out until it finished as the guy screamed the end of the song he was playing.

With his art briefcase (his most prized possession) packed, Gerard walked past the guy and his applauding tippers. The artists flipped each other off as a greeting, a habit they had gotten into doing whenever one passed the other.

"Fuck you and your fucking talent," he muttered as he continued walking away. Gerard was set in the direction of his completely craptastic house he shared with three other broke college students.

 _Tomorrow,_ Gerard promised himself, as he did every evening. He nodded to himself and pulled the leather strap of his briefcase higher on his shoulder. _Tomorrow I'll go off on that guy._

**]«+»[**

_Oh, how gorgeous this street would be if it wasn't plagued by mean artists too deep into the punk scene,_ Ray sighed as he screwed the cap back onto his water bottle. He readjusted his guitar in his lap and glared at the caricaturist barely more than a yard away. The artist had black hair that was short-ish, unwashed and slightly spiked. The guy was probably around Ray's age, he guessed. Ray pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and shook his head at the weirdo. _I swear if he tries drowning me out with The Misfits again..._

Taking a breath, Ray placed the bottled water down, then glanced down at the large de-labeled can in front of him. His tip jar. It was sad (the amount of money inside being sadder), bent in the side and was placed in front and slightly to the left of him, the opposite direction of painter punk. He played on the city streets because no bars or restaurants would take him and the extra cash helped him through the college he was struggling to pay for.

He cleared his throat, scratched the beat of his next song on his guitar and began playing and singing. He was barely into the first verse when he heard the familiar tune of the punk's apparent favourite Misfits song. Ray continued on, pushing more passion into the chorus and playing louder. The punk kept on, though, singing louder through Ray's glares.

His playing was apparently good, because he began attracting a crowd. The punk packed up his things as Ray came around to the bridge. They sang their songs louder until the point of screaming and when they both finished, the punk passed him and they flipped each other off.

Ray prepared his next song as he thanked people when they tipped him.

 _At least he's not here to steal my crowd anymore,_ he thought to himself as he adjusted the pick in his fingers. He would only play for another few minutes before heading home.

So he began, not playing anything particularly, just playing. He was a guitarist before he was a singer. Singing almost made him uncomfortable, but it was what got him tips. This last improvisational bit he played was always his fuming at himself towards the artist that stole his tippers. What killed Ray the most about the guy is that he could actually sing, and when Ray had glanced over at what he was working on, he saw he was also an amazing artist. Talented all around.

And it annoyed the fuck out of him.

Ray knew it was shallow, but he was just as talented as the punk was. He guessed people saw art in different ways. A painting for some reason was more valuable than a good classic song. Nothing he did was appreciated unless it was a heartless pop song. To most, he was merely background noise. It was aggravating that the other was getting Ray's crowd's. It meant he was getting Ray's tips, which meant Ray wasn't eating that night (college tuition came before meals).

He wanted to get through school by himself to prove himself. Not only to show his family, but to prove to himself that he could handle it. If anyone could to it, it was him.

And no punk would get in the way of that.

 _Tomorrow,_ Ray told himself, as he always did when he finished his last song. _Tomorrow I'll go off on that guy._

**~•{!¡!}•~**

That tomorrow they always promised themselves never came. It didn't come the next tomorrow or the next or the next. However, the tomorrow of that night, actual issues were rising, and was nothing close to anything they had ever 'planned'.

The time was almost directly after classes had ended. Ray always arrived first and left last since he lived around the corner from where he performed. Gerard was never earlier because where he lived was a while away and before he could come and earn his tips, he had to go there to swap his books for his briefcase. Ray was warming up when Gerard came with it to set up. They were both too close for the other's liking, but both of them were too stubborn to ever move.

Ray liked to keep his warm-up songs simple (punk) and slowly work his way up to the harder stuff ('80s metal and rock). Even though he prided himself on being a metalhead and being very particular about his music taste, there were a few punk songs and bands that caught his attention. And everyone had at least one Green Day song that they liked (admit it to yourself). Ray's was Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) and it was a popular song, so that was half of why he played it (popularity = $$$).

Green Day happened to be one of Gerard's favourite bands, and if you asked him, he'd say Good Riddance changed his life. So imagine his surprise when he heard it being played by the guy that only played Iron Maiden and Styx.

Despite the pleasant surprise, the artists glared at each other as Gerard passed. He was early today. Ray was not liking the way Gerard was nodding to the beat.

Of course, Gerard immediately started singing when the queue for the vocals came. Ray glanced a glare up at him but continued playing at a regular volume. At least they were singing in the same key today.

Gerard slung his briefcase off his shoulder and opened it up as he sung over the guitarist in the chorus. He was surprised at how well their voices sounded together and was utterly baffled when people started lining up one after one in front of the two. He closed his briefcase back up.

They glanced at each other as the chorus ended. Who was pranking them?

When they heard the familiar clank of change in a tin can, they looked down shocked. Who cared if it was a prank? They were getting _actual money._

Ray let Gerard have the next verse as more and more people filled up the can. They finished the song, all throughout giving each other skeptical looks. They finished and the people applauded generously then dispersed a bit, a few tourists lingering for the next song.

Ray leaned over to say something to Gerard, but lost his words. He sat down next to him quickly. They looked at each other for a moment, expressing the same thought: what the fuck just happened and how do we do it again?

"Uh, quick," Gerard said. "Pretend like we're together."

"Excuse me?" Ray raised his eyebrows at him.

"No, like we're an act," he said. "Please tell me you know something else I do."

Unwilling, but far too desperate, Ray said, "I think I know some Smashing Pumpkins?"

"Brilliant," Gerard said, then stood. "Quickly. Go. Before they leave."

Ray stumbled through the song, but it was barely noticeable through Gerard's vocals. Attracting tourists and even people who saw them every day, they continued on, struggling to find common ground but making it work fabulously. With Ray backing the choruses and Gerard's spot on melodies (and totally unique voice), they had filled the can by the ending. As Ray finished the song up, they shared a look of disbelief at not only the amount of people, but the amount of money overflowing from the can.

After arguing and concluding they didn't know any more of the same songs, Ray picked up the can and the few bills surrounding it. Gerard took the tips he had collected personally and shoved them into the can with the rest.

"Holy shit," Gerard said. That was all he could think, and apparently could say. He shook his head at the can, eyes wide. "Holy _shit._ "

Still gaping at the amount of money in their hands, Ray asked, "Do you wanna split this over coffee?"

Gerard nodded, not taking his eyes off the tips. "There's a place up the street that my brother works at. He'll give us a discount." As a broke college student, he'd do anything for a cheaper price.

Ray shared the feeling, as he traveled miles out of town to go to a supermarket that had reasonable prices. "Sweet." He stood and placed his guitar back in its case, then followed Gerard to the coffee shop hardly a block away.

They stepped in and took the place in. It was basically Gerard's second home (they sure did treat him better than at his 'real' home). They ordered their coffees, paying with the tips, and sat down at a booth next to the window, their artistic vessels going in first. They introduced themselves briefly and awkwardly, then shook hands.

Silently, they drank their coffees and stole glances of each other, filling their subconscious filters. Ray looked a lot dorkier and cuter up close, Gerard noted. His brown curly hair and glasses were charming in a strange way. And Gerard seemed a lot more eccentric and giggly, Ray saw, now that he was sitting at the same table as him. He looked restless and insane, the perfect recipe for an artist.

Gerard laughed to himself, proving Ray's giggly-looking point. His laugh, even if it was a chuckle or a guffaw, was giggly (and everyone who knew him knew that (except him)).

Ray furrowed his eyebrows at him. "What?"

"Nothing, I just..." He laughed again and leant over his coffee. "This is just ridiculous to me," he said. "I mean, I hate you. Well, hat _ed_ I guess, but still." Ray smiled slightly and Gerard held his hand out, noticing the grin. "Right? It's kinda ridiculous."

Ray chuckled. "Yeah. I hate you too."

Gerard shook his head, still giggling a little, and that's when Ray noticed he smiled and talked from the side of his mouth. "But what the hell happened out there? Why was that so good and why hasn't it happened before?"

Ray nodded, rubbing his chin, looking as if the thought of the success was painful. "I have... no idea."

"Forgive me if this comes off wrong or childish," Gerard waved away the words as he said them, "but it was pure, like, _magic,_ " he said. "I don't think I've received this much in the whole time I've been out there." He stared almost wide-eyed at the not-so-sad-anymore tip can.

"Me neither," Ray said. "So what do we do? I mean, we hate each other, so..." He almost laughed at the horrible improbability.

"Well, I only hate you because all you play is metal I can't stand." Gerard smiled and it almost looked flirtatious, but Ray was hoping it was the only-half-of-mouth-working thing.

"I hate you because your punk is hard to follow. Good Riddance is the only Green Day song I like." Ray slowly drank from his paper cup.

Gerard's jaw dropped. "Not even Wake Me Up When September Ends?"

”Ehh... Not my favourite."

Gerard's eyes widened as he sighed. "How is this even going to work?" He ran his fingers through his hair. Ray thought it looked like his hair was dyed, but he quickly forgot it. "Because, I mean, we've got to do this again. Look at how rich we'll be!" He gestured to the can between them on the table.

He shrugged and shook his head, feeling as hopeless as Gerard. "I don't think it's going to until we don't hate each other or their taste in music."

Gerard nodded, sipping his coffee. "So what're you into? Besides old metal."

Ray lowered his coffee cup from his mouth, gazing at Gerard over his glasses. "Excuse me?"

"Not that there's anything wrong with it, I mean..." Gerard awkwardly shifted in his seat. "What I mean is, we should get to know each other. What are you into; what do you like to do?"

"Um, I like to play guitar." Ray nodded and drank his coffee.

"That's it?"

Ray continued nodding. "Yup. I'm not that complex."

Gerard scoffed. "I'm sure you are. I'm just not asking the right questions." He thought for a moment. "Do you like art?"

"Yeah, its the best part of comic books. But it doesn't take an art enthusiast to see you're amazing at what you do."

Gerard laughed once. "Thanks. I didn't think you looked."

"How couldn't I? You're brilliant."

Gerard felt bashful and tried to hold back what felt like a blush up his neck. "Naahh. What's brilliant are those songs that you do at the end of the night. It's just free-form stuff, right?"

Ray nodded in disbelief. "You know about that? I always play those after you leave."

"Well, I can't always stay the whole thing, but it's brilliance. I can't help it." Gerard barely smiled, sipping his coffee and shrugging.

Ray was genuinely surprised and flattered. "Thanks, that means a lot."

Gerard shrugged, coffee in hand, close to spilling it. "It's true," he said, then sipped at the hot drink. "So, you mentioned comic books?"

"Yeah, I got a bunch from my uncle." Ray swirled the coffee around in his cup. "I was never really interested in the stories, although they were cool, the drawings were what stuck out to me."

Gerard's jaw dropped. "No way." He leaned closer as he set his cup back down. "I wanna be a comic book artist when I get out of school."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I got my name picked out and everything." He vaguely gestured in the air as if it were spelt there.

Ray smiled at him without showing his teeth. He couldn't help but think Gerard's mannerisms were charming. "You ever gone to Comic-Con?"

Gerard nodded, tracing the rim of his paper cup with his finger. "Only once. Last year. The only year I could afford. Have you gone before?"

"I went last year, too. Wait." Ray squinted at the boy across from him. "Gerard," he said slowly. "I know that name."

"Did we—Oh yeah! You were dressed as that guy from..." Gerard tapped his hand on his knee, trying to recall the day.

"Yeah, yeah! And you were the dude from that... uh..." Ray snapped his fingers as if that would bring the memory back.

"Yeah, that comic, uh..."

"Wasn't I an anime character?"

"I can't believe I can't remember," Gerard said, then paused quickly. "Well, I can. There were some guys passing around a vodka bottle near the _Doctor Who_ panel."

Ray took his glasses off and rubbed his face. "Yeah, same thing happened to me. Some kids dressed as _Naruto_ brought something in a flask and passed it around...?"

"Those _Naruto_ kids are fucked up," Gerard chuckled.

"Oh, I know, I'm the one who got drunk with them." Ray shook his head.

They laughed together, it dissipating as they tried to recall the first time they had met.

"When I saw you," Ray said, pointing lazily towards Gerard, "you were stumbling past _Twilight_ 's panel giggling about shoes." Gerard giggled as Ray pointed back to himself, laughing when he started speaking. "And I was looking for somewhere to throw up."

Gerard chuckled softly. "Yeah, your costume did have the prettiest shoes."

"Yeah, and I was really into the comic you were dressed from at the time." Ray nodded, barely gesturing between them when appropriate. "That was spot on, by the way."

"Thank you. I worked on it for months." Gerard drained the rest of the coffee from his cup. "But yeah, I had been trying to get into that anime. Your costume was pretty cool."

They spoke at the same time, saying it was't as good at Gerard's, then laughed. Both felt the awkward hatred fading as they went deeper into this subject.

Ray then shook his head at the thought of them stumbling around drunk together. "So yeah, I came over and made some kind of joke? You laughed forever."

"Yeah, it was so funny because you were just _smitten._ " They laughed for a second and Ray felt embarrassment in the form of blush heat his ears. "And they let me keep that vodka bottle, so that wasn't helping."

"Right, right..." Ray held the blush down and changed the subject, hoping it wouldn't get any more embarrassing from there. "What happened after that? We started passing the bottle back and forth and my memory's spotty past that."

"Uh... We..." Gerard stared at a spot in the table, speaking slowly. "We were drunkenly flirting, then the bottle finished and we threw it at some kids dressed as _Supernatural_..."

Ray shook his head, laughing.

"It barely rolled an eighth of the way." They laughed. Gerard asked himself, "What did we do after that?"

"Uh..." All of Ray's memory was blank.

They ransacked their brains, trying to bring the night and its events back to mind.

"We... flirted more?" Ray furrowed his eyebrows at the vague feeling of a memory.

Gerard squinted at the spot in the table, scrunching up his eyebrows and nose. "I think we went to the..."

They both remembered at the same time what had happened.

"Oh," they said.

" _Oh,_ " Ray said.

" _Oh, God!_ " Gerard cringed with his whole face and covered it with his hands.

"We fucked in the bathroom at Comic-Con?!" Ray close to shrieked.

"I think so," Gerard said, the words muffled through his fingers.

"Ouhg, _God._ " Ray put his face in his hands.

They sat there for minutes, not wanting to see each other or for the other to see them.

 _Fuck, I hate those little_ Naruto _fuckers,_ was all Ray could think.

"I need more coffee," Gerard murmured before standing and walking back to the ordering counter. They still avoided the other's gaze.

"Mikey, I need help," Gerard whispered loudly when he got to the cash register.

His younger brother was standing behind it, rolling his eyes. "Ok, I'll get your regular in a second. Just calm down."

"No, that's not what I'm talking about." Gerard was leant over the counter, trying to speak so only Mikey could hear. "You know that guitarist metalhead I hate?"

"The guy you're having coffee with?" Mikey smirked, expressing 'I'm-not-an-idiot-you're-wasting-my-time'.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up." Gerard waved his remark off. "And you know how when I went to Comic-Con I met that anime guy I fucked in the bathrooms?"

"Mmhmm?" Mikey folded his arms across his chest. "The best you've ever had?"

" _Sshhh!_ " Gerard glancing back at Ray.

Mikey raised an eyebrow. "So they're the same guy?"

Gerard stuttered a few consonants out, then looked Mikey straight in the eyes. "Help me."

Mikey sighed and shook his head. "You're holding up the line. Order or get out."

Gerard squinted at his brother, barely surprised at his reaction. "I'd like to have one large coffee and a brother who cares about me."

Mikey gave another annoyed squint. "One large coffee." He wrote the order down on a cup and passed it to a co-worker. He then leant on the counter with both of his hands. "And look. I'm not gonna help you run from your problems. You rambled on about that Comic-Con guy for months. Now he's here for you to keep. So quit whining, go get him, and stop _holding up the line._ " He told Gerard his (un-discounted) total and handed him his coffee when it was paid.

"I hate you," Gerard said.

"Because I'm right?" Mikey asked. "Love you too."

Gerard huffed and stomped back to the table. He didn't need that. Just because this dude was good in bed didn't mean Gerard was in love. But he knew he at least owed it to himself to try this performing thing with him, if nothing else.

Ray had come to about the same conclusion back at the table. He had to face this guy and live with the weird shame. They both needed this project.

"So I split the money while you were gone," Ray said, avoiding eye contact, his glasses back to his face. "We each get thirty-eight forty-seven with one cent left." He counted when he was nervous, so this money had been counted three times over and was almost in the process of a fourth.

Gerard gazed over the separate piles of bills and change as he sat down. He pocketed the pile then saw the singular penny in the centre and smiled. "What do you wanna do with this then?" He picked up the penny before sipping his coffee.

"Uh, you can have it if you want; I don't need it that bad," Ray said, the lie he told unnoticeable. He needed every penny he could get, but being polite was always the first thing. He stuffed the cash into the front pocket of his guitar case.

"Nah, I'm not taking it." Gerard turned the coin around and studied it. "Let's give it to that homeless guy that does the stand up."

"Yeah, I was gonna give him my forty-seven cents."

They almost smiled at each other and the shared interest, but instead just awkwardly glanced and sat in the silence that ensued.

Gerard hadn't meant to, but he dwelled on the seemingly growing cuteness of the guitarist in front of him. He kept picking out cute details about him, filing them away and pulling his image apart as if he was drawing him. Then he stopped himself and cursed his brother. He hated it when he was right.

Ray meanwhile had found himself staring as soon as Gerard looked away. He was remembering Comic-Con slowly and hated himself for how much he had enjoyed himself. Those were his experimentation days, and he wasn't really proud of them. But Gerard was different (in more ways than one). Ray searched for the right word to describe him, tilting his head at the cute way Gerard was pouting at his thoughts, then Ray looked down and away. He wasn't going to do this to himself.

They missed each other's eyes again as Gerard checked to see if it really was Ray's eyes he'd felt on him. Then he felt embarrassed for even considering it and looked back down.

"So..." Gerard stayed staring at his coffee. "You wanna learn some Ramones for me? U-Uh, for the-the performing thing, of course."

Ray nodded. "If you learn some Metallica for me."

Gerard smiled as they finally made eye contact. "Deal."

They shook hands, smiling slightly, and almost felt okay with each other for a second.

Then Mikey's voice rang across the coffee shop. "Just kiss him already!" He covered his mouth with his hands and then embarrassedly covered his whole face.

They stuttered at each other and watched the blush the other had on his face.

"I am going to kill that kid," Gerard said under his breath. "I swear..."

"I'll hide the body," Ray replied, sinking down in the chair. The whole shop was looking at them now.

A kid of maybe eight or nine started chanting, "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Gerard and Ray glanced at each other the same look of panic and similar feeling of distress. This was a nightmare for the shy college students.

The kid's older sibling joined in, then some college-age students around them started. Pretty soon, the entire coffee shop, including parents and baristas, were chanting (Mikey being the loudest).

The struggling street artists looked at each other and swallowed. Neither of them wanted to give in to the public like this.

"You're gonna help me kill Mikey?" Gerard asked, his face closer to Ray's then he had thought it was.

Ray nodded, glancing down at Gerard's lips. He swallowed again, the feeling of vomiting becoming stronger by the second. The crowd's chant seemed to be enveloping him and closing in on his throat. He looked back up.

Without looking away from Ray's eyes, Gerard gripped the handle of his art briefcase. "Grab your guitar," he said in a low voice. "Let's kiss and run."

Ray shakily grabbed the handle of his guitar case, his eyes locked on Gerard. "What-What does—What?"

Gerard grabbed the collar of Ray's shirt and kissed him for longer than he meant to. "Kiss," he whispered, his hand trailing down Ray's arm for his, "and _run._ "

He dragged Ray out of the shop while everyone cheered. They ran until the sounds faded from their heads. Near the town fountain is where they finally stopped and caught their breath.

They were both bent over, leaning on their knees. Moments passed of silence, save the panting, until Gerard laughed.

"Oh, what now?" Ray asked, almost joking, but mostly annoyed. He halfway grinned at Gerard's giggle anyways.

"I just..." Gerard laughed again, it coming out more of a wheeze due to his lack of breath. He looked at Ray. "I hate you. But I kissed..." He motioned between their mouths, then tried taking a breath, glancing at the ground before back up. "You're a damn good kisser."

Ray laughed, looking down, the breath he had caught up to gone again. He hadn't meant to kiss back in the last second (the 'Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!'ing had gotten into his head (and Gerard kissed irresistibly, like he meant it (and used both sides of his mouth, unlike Ray had guessed))). He silently said, "You, too."

Ray sat on the edge of the fountain, Gerard following suit shortly after. They were both non-athletic nerds and needed a few more moments to recover from the run.

When Gerard looked down from the purpling sky, he gazed at his clenched fist. Inside was the extra penny.

He nudged Ray. "Look." He held his hand out for him to see.

"The penny?" Ray pushed his glasses up on his nose. Gerard nodded. "What about it?"

"I want to make a wish."

Ray furrowed his eyebrows slightly before he remembered where they were sitting. He finally nodded in understanding, then shrugged. "It's not my penny."

"It's _ours,_ " Gerard corrected. He grabbed Ray's hand so they were holding the penny together. "Make a wish with me."

After a moment of doubt, he shrugged and said, "Sure."

"We have to throw it behind us," Gerard said. "It's the only way it'll come true."

"Okay," Ray said as they stood up.

Gerard tightly shut his eyes, preparing his wish and squeezing it into the coin. Ray glanced at him and smiled slightly. _Hell, if he's into it this much,_ he thought, _then I can at least make a stupid wish._

Instead of either of them wishing for tips or cheaper tuition (or even better brothers), they wished for a thing they hadn't expected from themselves.

_I wish I could keep this feeling left in the pit of my stomach._

And the coin was thrown.


End file.
